


The Tiniest Cave (or How Dorian Got His First Grey Hair)

by Smultron



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smultron/pseuds/Smultron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another kink meme fill.<br/>Dorian did not quite know what to make of the quirky Dalish Inquisitor, but it was not until they stumbled upon a weird tiny cave that he started to question her sanity and started losing his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tiniest Cave (or How Dorian Got His First Grey Hair)

Dorian had thought it odd when the Inquisitor suddenly had decided to leave the Emerald Graves, before they had finished anything they came here to do. The Freemen were still very much at large, red lyrium smugglers everywhere and they had only closed two rifts when there were bound to be more. The list could go on, but in short there were many things left to do. The Inquisitor _did_ find time to run around collecting those eerie shards that were scattered everywhere. But then again that did not seem very important compared to the clearly more pressing issues at hand.

What happened was that they had just killed the largest bear he had ever encountered. Admittedly he had not seen that many bears before. Just the dancing bears the jesters in Tevinter kept, oh, they were droll.

It was a large beast but no one in their party had been severely injured. Just a few scratches, but that was to be expected. Lavellan was Dalish, and it showed, she was swift with the knife when she gutted the carcass. She proceeded by cutting out its heart and offered him a share of it.  Raw, warm and bloody, which he elegantly declined. He worried a little that he might be committing some Dalish capital offence, but she only shrugged and said,

“Suit yourself.”

She on the other hand treated it like it was a delicacy, inconceivable as it might be to those more refined in their party. Oh, who was he kidding, he was the only one even remotely elegant in this group.

“If you could braise it with a dash of wine I wouldn’t say no, I’m just not used to eating raw meat,” he explained.

“Oh, we’re going to cook the rest of the offals tonight or they’ll be spoilt. But the heart doesn’t need any cooking and eating it is a celebration of a good hunt. This bear is huge.”

“I have a feeling we were the ones who were being hunted.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s wrong with the bears in the south, but the threat is real. It’s like they’re possessed or something. But in the end we’re not the ones who ended up on today’s menu so I guess it’s okay with me.”

“Possesed… Like the wolves in the Hinterlands you mean?” Varric asked.

“I don’t know, these bears just seem crazy. Suicidal even.”

 

Though he did not know her very well yet, Lavellan seemed like the friendly sort i.e. she flirted with him and laughed at his jokes. Especially for a Dalish if the accounts he had heard of them were true: They detested humans and seemed fiercely overprotective of their traditions. Of course he understood the reasons for their hostility, but that did not make it pleasant.

It was interesting that Solas, who was the elfiest elf he had ever met, resented them. Although Solas did have a knack for upsetting people, for all that polite exterior, he did not pull his punches. It was not difficult to imagine that a chat about the ancient elves between the Dalish and Solas would end in arrows and fireballs. Both seemed equally stubborn.

Anyway, Lavellan was nice enough, and mostly he agreed with her decisions, at least the important ones. This time he did not approve. Why did they have to leave and ride for miles on horseback just to hand over some bear pelts to some Dalish clan? His arse was sore after all that horseriding.

They had returned to the Emerald Graves directly from the Exalted Planes. They killed the smugglers, allied with a man named Fairbanks and closed quite a few rifts. And now they were on their way back from an haunted mansion, an actual haunted mansion! Caused by southern cretins who did not understand magic. It made him rather angry. Dorian knew more than most of the dangers of magic but this clearly showed the problems with the southern barbarians’ stubborn quest to hide magic and the people who wield it in towers. The situation also hit a little too close to home for comfort. Asinine parents who refused to accept their children for who they were, all for appearances. Exasperating really.

So, they moved towards the nearest camp (Dorian assumed), Lavellan stomped right through the brook like she did not care that she got wet. Yes, the Dalish usually did not wear shoes, but she was actually wearing boots today not to mention breeches. She was knee high in water. It made him think that there was some secret to elvish skin. It was fascinating (for a little while), to see that Solas did not wear shoes, not even in Haven where it was freezing cold. And Lavellan did not seem to be bothered by wet clothes. Maybe they could not get cold? It was a mystery.

“Um, Inquisitor, won’t you be uncomfortable if your clothes get wet?” he called from the side of the river

“Huh? Naw, it’ll be alright, they’ll dry eventually.”

“Yes, of course they’ll dry, if you don’t walk through yet another river. But won’t that take a while? And, have you ever heard of chafing? “

“Chafing… Oh, wait, Dorian. I’ve got to do this.”

“Do what?” Dorian asked incredulously as he watched her suddenly throw herself into a thicket of bushes. He followed her carefully as to avoid getting slapped in the face by the greenery. Inside there was a little shrine, of some sorts?

“Ah, here we are.”

“Do you know what this is?” he asked but did not get any answer this time either, which by the way, was getting a bit tiresome. Instead she started jumping up and down on top of the rocks.

“What in name of all that is holy are you doing?!”

Lavellan stumbled and fell off the stone ...thing. She glared at him, “Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate here. And you’re in the way!”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“Hush Dorian,” she snapped and started to jump again.

“Do you know what she’s up to?” Dorian turned to Varric and Blackwall instead.

“Leave me out of this.” Blackwall said and turned his back on them. It was clear he was going to deal with this with denial.

“When it comes to the Inquisitor, we don’t ask, we follow. It’s easier that way and usually things turn out fine. Except when they don’t.” Varric explained.

“Is that suppose to reassure me?” Dorian looked again at the jumping figure that was the Inquisitor. “I feel betrayed. It appears I didn’t join the Inquisition, I joined the circus!” he exclaimed dramatically.

“Get off your high horse, you’re just as weird as the rest us.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow and nodded at Lavellan.

“Ok, maybe not as weird as the Inquisitor, but it’s our weird Inquisitor. She’s alright.”

Suddenly a peculiar, unnerving voice was heard, _“Pulling the curtain, let the light in… blablabla.”_

“Did you hear that?!” Dorian hissed.

“Yeah, I think it was pretty hard to miss.”

_“Not the time to come out yet…”_

All of a sudden Lavellan stopped jumping and started to rummage her pack. She found what she was looking for and placed it in front of the altar. Crystal Grace apparently.

“Are you sure that’s wise? Last time you sacrificed something you were attacked by a demon,” Dorian asked.

_“The stairs! The stairs that go way way way way down. I’ll be there, you’ll be there…”_

“...That’s some weird ass shit.” Varric furrowed his brow.

“You’re right about that at least,” Dorian agreed.

“Alright, I’m finished here.” Lavellan looked pleased.

“What was that? What stairs was it talking about?”

“You’ll see,” she answered cryptically.

“You do realise it isn’t normal to jump up and down on a shrine like that? In fact it looked like you’d lost your mind. How did you even know there was a spirit there?” Dorian asked though he did not have much hope for any real answers.

“It’s a cave! You’re the one to talk. Everytime I stop to speak to someone you start walking around like you have ants in your pants. How normal is that?”

“Preposterous, I do not!”

“You do.”

“Remember you actually stopped right in an anthill one time, it was a nightmare.”

“That was a mistake, I’ll admit,” she shuddered but then grinned, “It doesn’t explain the rest of the times though. Anyway, I saw some giants before, who’s up for some kicking some giant arse?”

If Dorian had known what a facepalm was, that would be exactly what he would be doing right now, “You’re joking? Tell me you’re joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” Unfortunately she looked oblivious.

“I’m tired, I need my beauty sleep! We’ve been fighting demons and undead the whole day. I’m too beautiful to die!”

“Heh, giant ass, good one Lavellan. But maybe we should go back to camp, it’s easy to make mistakes when you’re tired,” Varric tried to intervene.

“Exactly! What he said.”

“...I agree,” finally Blackwall had decided to say something useful.

“...Oh, alright. You’re probably right. Lets go back to Skyhold!”

“Nooooooooooooooo!”

 

Later, at Skyhold, you could hear a similar cry from Dorian’s room.

“Dorian, what’s up? I heard a cry. Anyway, we’re going back to The Emerald Graves in 20 minutes, be sure you’re ready. I’ve got some shard pickin’ to do. Gotta catch ‘em all, you know.”

“Inquisitor, you’ll be the death of me. Do you realise I’ve just found a grey hair? I want to be left alone,” it sounded like he was about to cry, which actually was not far from the truth.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sympathetically,  “I guess I could bring Solas instead.”

“Please do, he doesn’t have to worry about grey hair at least.”

“Yes, it’s a bit late for that.” Lavellan snickered.

That made Dorian laugh too, there was nothing that could make you feel better than laughing at someone else’s expense. He looked in the mirror again and pulled out the grey hair. There, that was better.

“Grey hair or not, you’re still the handsomest man I know, Dorian,” Lavellan grinned at him before she left to drop the bomb on Solas.

Maybe she was not so bad after all, the Inquisitor.

**Author's Note:**

> What I listened to while I wrote this: Questing, Questing and Trudge, Trudge, Trudge with The Backyardigans へ（￣ー￣）ノ Well not really ...Okay, maybe one time. Or two....
> 
> The promt was to describe the reactions of the Inquisitor's companions to this quest which actually exists. A very secret quest, I would probably never have found out about it if it weren't for that promt.


End file.
